


Fell to the Top

by sohox



Series: Fell to the Top [1]
Category: Bandom, Rhett & Link
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Hate Sex, M/M, bdsm undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 03:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20717486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohox/pseuds/sohox
Summary: Rhett was proud of how he and his cofounder Link had grown the small studio into something of a respectable epicenter of small to mid-level bands, coaxing grungy half-way musicians into something worthy of being played on the radio.What he’s not proud of is how every time this short, cocky asshole comes into his studio, Rhett’s blood starts to boil and he has to dip into the good whisky he keeps up in the loft.





	Fell to the Top

**Author's Note:**

  * For [captainsourwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainsourwolf/gifts), [mythicaliz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythicaliz/gifts).

> For Elizabeth, for holding my hand through every word, and cheering me on from inside my google doc. 
> 
> And for Liz, for making me feel brave.

“-  _ fuck _ I just can’t hold it!” Brendon snapped into the microphone, the high pitched note he was attempting to draw out ending in a strangled gasp. 

This wasn’t the first time Rhett had to work with this insufferable tool, but it was the first time they had to work alone. The rest of Brendon’s band and Rhett’s crew gave up an hour ago, heading out to grab a beer down the road. Of course Rhett stayed behind, professionalism weighing heavily in his decision to see the session through to the end. 

Rhett was proud of how he and his cofounder Link had grown the small studio into something of a respectable epicenter of small to mid-level bands, coaxing grungy half-way musicians into something worthy of being played on the radio. 

What he’s not proud of is how every time this short, cocky asshole comes into his studio, Rhett’s blood starts to boil and he has to dip into the good whisky he keeps up in the studio’s loft. 

Brendon’s band had been in and out of Mythical studios a few times over the years. They’d even made a few halfway decent albums, thanks to Rhett and the Mythical sound crew. Rhett has watched him grow from an awkward and unsure frontman, recording Panic!’s sophomore album at twenty one, to a cocksure asshole high on his own arrogance and success at thirty. 

“It might be time for you to give it up, son.” 

Brendon’s been trying to hit this high note for the past thirty minutes, his falsetto wavering ever so slightly right at the end, frustration written clearly across his face.

“Listen  _ old man,”  _ his brown eyes burn at Rhett through the glass of the recording booth “I know you’re fucking  _ ancient _ , but don’t ever call me  _ son _ again. I’m not paying you to patronize me. I’m fucking paying you to help me get this song right.” 

Rhett chuckles at the pink stains blooming on Brendon’s cheeks, at the flare of his nostrils. He has to admit the kid’s got a point. As much as he’d love to just kick him out and call it a night, he can’t afford to be on the bad side of someone as influential as Brendon. 

“I could always kick you in the balls, see if thatta help.” The corner of Rhett’s mouth curves into a smirk under his beard. 

He watches as Brendon rips the very expensive headphones from his head, throwing them to the ground, and he’s through the door of the booth and standing in front of Rhett, jerking his swiveling chair around to force them face to face before Rhett can even protest. 

“What the fuck is your problem, man? Every time I come here it’s like I’m a big fucking inconvenience to you, you ungrateful hack!” His nostrils are flaring, the vein in his forehead pulsing proud above the grimace on his face. His voice sounds shredded, the strain obvious in every word.

Brendon looks like he might swing a punch at him. 

From where he’s sitting he’s at eye level with Brendon’s sternum. He can see the younger man vibrating with fury, chest heaving with heated breath right in front of Rhett’s face. There’s a trickle of sweat sliding down his throat, catching on the silver necklace that rests just below Brendon’s clavicle. 

Their eyes are drawn together like magnets and Rhett can almost feel the charge of electricity crackling between them. Rhett flexes the muscles in his forearms, palms suddenly sweaty, throat suddenly dry. He can’t fucking stand this shithead, but suddenly the only thing he can focus on is the Cupid’s bow curve of Brendon’s lips. 

Brendon licks his lips and his pupils are blown wide the moment he notices Rhett’s gaze dart down to his mouth. 

“Is that what this is about?” He gruffs, voice like the crackle of liquor over ice. His lips twitch into a smirk and he leans forward, bracing his hands on the arms of Rhett’s chair, leaning so far into Rhett’s space that he can feel the huff of Brendon’s breath on his face. 

In the rush of a breath, Rhett’s hands fly up, one gripping into the dark hair at the nape of Brendon’s neck, the other bracing against Brendon’s throat, thumb pressing sharp against his adam’s apple. Brendon’s lips fall open in a gasp, and Rhett’s mouth is on him, pulling him forward, teeth sinking into the delicate flesh of his bottom lip. Rhett stands, still connected to Brendon, their bodies coming forward together as Rhett crowds into Brendon’s space, knee pressing right up against the growing bulge in Brendon’s slacks. 

Rhett can hear the blood rushing in his ears, he feels tense all over, heat pooling low in his belly, cock twitching every time Brendon moans against the intrusion of his tongue. He can’t help himself. His hand tightens around Brendon's throat, feeling the tendons flexing under his grip. 

Brendon’s hands fly up, sinking his fingernails into Rhett's forearms, finally pulling back enough to look up at the taller man. From this angle Rhett is looming over him. They’ve only just started and Brendon already looks totally wrecked. 

“How fucking long have you been waiting to do that?” Brendon’s panting, a nasty smirk marring his lips. “I’ve watched you eyefuck me for almost a decade. Never thought you’d have the balls to actually act on it.” 

All Rhett can think about is shutting this little fucker up again. He pushes him roughly, Brendon losing balance and plopping down onto the plush leather couch. His face is suddenly eye level with Rhett’s crotch, and Rhett is suddenly seeing red, his own arousal blurring his vision. 

He grabs Brendon’s chin, a little tougher than necessary, the younger mans stubble scraping against the pads of Rhett’s fingers. “If you don’t want this...if you want me t’stop, you better fuckin’ tell me right now.” 

Brendon responds by tearing off his own shirt, tossing it aside, then moving his hands to the front of Rhett’s jeans, popping open the button and sliding the zipper down, staring up at Rhett with his big brown eyes, wetting his plush lips. He pushes Rhett’s jeans down over his hips, cock suddenly exposed to the cool air of the studio. 

“ _ Fuck,”  _ The word spills out of Brendon’s mouth, drenched with want. His eyes look glazed over and he licks his lips once more before moving forward to wrap his mouth around Rhett’s smooth head. 

They both moan in unison, the tension in the air is so heavy it feels like Rhett’s going to choke on it. Brendon’s teasing him, swirling his tongue in intricate patterns. It feels incredible, but Rhett already needs more. He moves his hand from Brendon’s chin to the top of his head, burying his hand in the coiffed hair there, tugging a little rougher than necessary and pushing himself further into the kid’s mouth. To his credit Brendon is taking it in stride, relaxing his jaw to take Rhett deeper. Brendon’s cheeks hollow around him, and it feels so good that Rhett’s knees are weak. 

“You’re a fucking brat,” Rhett’s voice sounds gruff even to his own ears. “Fucking walking around like you own this place. Like it should be a privilege to be in your presence.” Brendon’s moaning around his cock at his words, one hand dropping from Rhett’s hip down to his own lap. ”I’ve wanted to break you down since the first day you walked through that door.” 

Rhett grabs Brendon by the arms, pulling him off his cock, up and spinning him around till his back is pressed along his chest. The top of his head is nestled right at Rhett’s neck, and he has to bend low to growl into Brendon’s ear. “I know you’ve wanted it too. I see the way you watch me through the glass. How you try just a little bit harder when you know I’m lookin’ at you.” 

All Brendon can do is nod while Rhett drops his hands low, pulling at Brendon’s belt, tearing the button of his slacks open, zipper pushed down and out of the way. He reaches his hands into Brendon’s impossibly tight pants, gripping his cock hard, feeling the wetness already smearing along his skin. 

Brendon’s breathing so hard, waiting to see what happens next. Rhett pushes his slacks over his thick ass, and they both groan into the silence of the studio. He pushes Brendon back down into the couch, pressing a hand to his back and forcing him face first into the leather, ass lifted up into the air. He uses his foot to push the slacks further down the shorter man’s legs, binding him around the knees. 

On a whim he brings his hand down, smacking loud against Brendon’s plump ass cheek, the sudden sting dragging a strangled cry from Brendon’s throat. It’s fuel to the fire in Rhett’s belly, but he’s not ready to give in yet. Brendon’s quiet and compliant and he wants to keep this going as long as possible. He rubs at the glowing red palm print, thumb pulling at the flesh of his cheek, exposing his tight hole. Brendon shudders at the sensation, his flesh twitching under Rhett's rough caress. Rhett’s mouth waters at the sight, and he gathers that, spitting it roughly right into Brendon’s crack, thumb spreading the wetness all around. “Fuck,  _ Rhett!”  _ Brendon cries into the couch cushion, pushing back into the touch. 

“We’re getting there.” He huffs out before diving forward, mouth pressing deep against Brendon’s flesh, tongue circling Brendon’s sensitive spot. Brendon’s keening, babbling incoherently, muffled from his spot on the couch. He tenses his tongue, pushing into Brendon’s hole, living for the sound that streams out of Brendon’s mouth. Rhett can’t get over how hot his body feels; he’s on fire and his cock is about to explode just from this. “I’m gonna fuck you stupid, you fucking prick.” He sinks his thumb deep into Brendon, pumping the digit in and out, slowly, over and over, tugging sideways to open him up. 

A string of  _ yes _ and  _ fuck _ is his only reply, but it’s exactly what Rhett wants to hear. His cock is still coated in precome and Brendon’s spit, and that’s just going to have to be enough. “Do you think you can take me like this?” He’s pumping his cock, pushing another bead of precum out to smear against Brendon’s hole. Brendon answers by pushing back against him, barely able to move but desperate for more. “You’re a needy little slut, huh?” And he’s sinking into him, one hand pressing down on Brendon’s shoulder, keeping him exactly where he wants him. He’s about half way in before he stills, just shy of where Brendon needs him most. Brendon’s struggling to sit up, to see why he’s stopping, but Rhett just leans heavier against him, giving him no leniency. 

Rhett’s hand is at the base of his own cock, squeezing hard, then pumping himself up and down, jerking his cock off into Brendon’s impossibly tight hole. “The fuck, man?” Brendon’s voice is completely shredded, outrage barely a whisper as he struggles to get more friction. 

Rhett lets out a tiny chuckle, seriously considering just working himself until he explodes in Brendon’s tight ass, just to teach him a lesson, but then the smaller man slams his hips backward, burying Rhett’s cock to the hilt inside his silken heat. The miracle of a moan that rips out of Brendon is enough to snap Rhett’s resolve, and he’s pulling Brendon up, flush against his back, right forearm coming around and over to Brendon’s left shoulder, pinning him against Rhett’s body as Rhett slams his hips up into him. 

Brendon is practically boneless, sagging against Rhett like his cock is the only thing holding him up. “Touch me,” Brendon’s voice is small and desperate. Rhett’s about to laugh, to say no, until a small “ _ please”  _ breaks him. He changes his angle slightly, sliding as deep into Brendon as he can and reaching his hand down at the same time, grabbing Brendon’s cock and holding it flat against his thin belly. He knows exactly when he hits the bundle of nerves deep within Brendon, because the smaller man melts into him, body shuddering, cock twitching. It only takes two more thrusts before Brendon comes, thick ropes of white splashing onto his stomach and chest. 

Brendon’s muscles are squeezing tight around Rhett’s thick cock and Rhett can’t even see straight any more, he’s drilling his hips as hard as he can, every nerve in his body on fire, tension building until it finally snaps. He’s exploding inside of Brendon, and it’s filthy, and it’s not smart, but there’s no way he’s pulling out. He’s going to mark this little shit as his, at least for tonight. 

They’re both breathing so hard, like if they fill the silence with ragged breaths they can keep the spell going, before they have to break it with words. Finally, Rhett makes the first move, pulling out gently, his hand moving from from Brendon’s cock to his chest, still holding him close, dropping his face down to nuzzle into Brendon’s neck. “You were fucking amazing. But I always think that, every time I look at you.” 

Brendon’s struggling to even out his breathing, still boneless against Rhett’s larger body. “I thought…” he hiccups. “I thought you hated me.” 

“Never said I didn’t,” Rhett turns his body around, gathering him into his strong arms, safe and secure. He’s stroking the hair at the base of Brendon’s skull, carding hypnotic trails along his overly sensitive skin. “I just have’ta shut you up sometimes.” 

Brendon’s laugh rings through the quiet of the studio, voice still completely fucked, but that sound, Rhett decides he wants to hear from Brendon again and again. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was so self indulgent, I just really needed this to exist in the world.
> 
> Find me on tumblr at lighterheadheavyheart.tumblr.com


End file.
